


Set a Were to Catch a Were

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Knotting, M/M, Raised Apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We used to call it Pack, not a Clan, because it was.  We looked out for each other and we took care of one another.  We didn’t let each other be put in cages and we kept the hunters off each other’s backs.  The Campbell Clan is a mockery of the protection the pack used to give weres on the street.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set a Were to Catch a Were

 

 

"You looking for trouble?”  
  
"Hell yes," he said as he swung his fist. He connected with the man's chin and watched as he stumbled back, unable to catch himself.  The man fell heavily and he smiled viciously when he heard the wet thump of his head against the torn up alley floor.  
  
Dean Winchester might seem like he was biting off more than he could chew as he started a fight with the four muggers but only to people who didn't know him.  He smiled as the three other men turned away from the couple they'd cornered in the alley.  The couple deserved to be mugged -they'd be dead if Dean hadn't decided to intervene – being out on the streets after dark like that in the gang-infested city but they we're smart enough to scramble the other way, down the alley, once their attackers were otherwise occupied.  
  
One of the attackers stood back as the other two came at Dean.  He could see that one was human from the way he moved but the other men were weres.  In the alley Dean's sense of smell couldn't make out their species but it didn't really matter.  Dean had never met another of his own kind and it had been years since he'd considered the wild gang of weres that ran the street as Pack.  
  
The two men attacked at the same time but Dean ducked under one swung while he sidestepped the other's low-aimed kick.  He came up with a sharp blow to the kidney to the first and Dean smiled as the were fell back, staggering to get out of Dean's reach.  
  
Another kick came his way and Dean wasn't able to block the full impact of it. He was knocked back a few steps by the were.  The man didn't wait for Dean to recover but started a series of blows that Dean was able to block.  There was surprise and a grudging respect in the weres eyes as Dean was able to hold his own.  Dean wasn't some snot nosed kids just coming out on the streets though.  Dean had been in the thick of things once upon a time.  Before the Were Amnesty, Dean had been the highest priced - and most enigmatic - assassin in the business.  In those days weres had been in hiding;  fear of discovery and the never ending string of were hunters who knew what to look for and would slit your throat with silver before asking your name.  
  
It honed survivors into beasts, the likes of which the government had no way to defeat.  Weres like Dean learned to act human but had no sympathy and no mercy.  
  
When his attacker made his mistake, overstepping his range just slightly, Dean went in for the kill.  His silver blade slid silently from its sheath on his lower back and easily parted the flesh of his opponent.  Blood gushed from his neck but the were wouldn't heal.  Not from a silver wound.  
  
Dean smiled as he turned his attention to the human in their midst.  He came forward swinging but he was just a human and too slow for Dean’s reflexes.  It only took a few swings before Dean’s knife made a long slice across his abdomen. 

His three men down, the fourth man watched Dean as he circled the others.  No one was getting up soon – if at all – and Dean smiled at the man.

“You work for Campbell.”  The man nodded and it was all Dean needed to know.  He pulled out a small slip of paper and handed it to the man.  “You tell him to give me a call when he needs me.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Dean wondered if the guy would give his number out or if he’d make up some story about what happened tonight to his men.  It wasn’t the first time Dean had given this slip of paper out.  He could see the cold gleam in the man’s eye though and there was intelligence behind it.  No one stayed out of the business for long if they really wanted to get into it, not if they were as good as Dean, and this guy didn’t want to be on the bad side of business when Dean’s deeds came to light.  He might actually give the number to Campbell.

“I’m the man that just spared your life.” 

**

It happened just the way he thought it would.  The entire thing was a set up - from the bungled robbery to the men lying dead on the floor - and Dean knew it going in.  Some people might be worried about meeting a man who had no problem sending his people to die so that another could prove his worth, but that was a world Dean understood well.  It was the rest of the world he still didn't get.  
  
The quiet clap at the back of the warehouse came from behind a screen of bodies, human and were.  Dean was tied to a chair with silver chains.  His hands were held tight to his side and his silver blade sat on the floor in front of him, easily within reach if he could get out of the chair.  His head was foggy thanks to the drug that had hit him once he'd ended the last of the would-be robbers.  He'd known it was coming but that didn't take away the sting of having been tranqed like a fucking animal.  
  
The government didn't condone the use of silver bullets anymore though they were still widely used on the streets.  The government was a lot kinder to weres since the Pestilence and they’d developed more advanced tranq guns to fill the need.  There were some people who claimed the weres had caused the Pestilence but since weres hadn't been allowed an education it was hard to imagine they cooked it up.  Things were different now though.  When the Pestilence killed most of mankind and weres were no longer a marginal population, the humans had to take notice of them.  They had to learn to integrate weres with humans.  
  
Dean had been on the streets as a child though, running from the human authorities who wanted to stick him in a cage and leave him to become nothing more than a feral beast.  It was better though than the shattered look his father had given him when he’d walked in and found Dean standing over his little brother, three careful scratches across his brother’s abdomen making him a were just like Dean.

John had been an unknown carrier of the were-gene and it wasn’t until Dean was born that he’d known.  Sammy – his Sammy – had been born human until the day six year old Dean made him his own.

It was the day their father turned his back on Dean and left Dean to his own devices, caring only for his youngest.  He stopped calling Dean by his real name, only demeaning monikers that left Dean feeling hollow and alone.

Sammy though, his little brother loved Dean more than anything and John had no way to stop that.  When John kept Sammy from him, his little brother screamed and howled until John relented.  Except on Sammy’s fourth birthday, John returned home without his youngest son.  In a voice, low and menacing, he told Dean that he’d never see his brother again.  That he’d finally found someplace safe for him where Dean would never be able to touch him again.

His father became a were hunter then, training Dean to kill his own kind and never relenting in teaching Dean that he – and his kind - were nothing more than filthy animals.

And Dean would be damned if he’d ever let anyone else make him feel that way again.  Even now, tied to the chair and waiting for whatever happened next, he was in complete control of the beast under his skin.

“Dean Winchester.”  The crowd of men before him parted and a dark skinned man walked out from behind them, his smile wide and feral.  His white teeth stood out in stark contrast to his chocolate skin and it made Dean want to see his fangs, made him want to rip them out and set them in the jar with the rest of his collection. 

It’d been years since he’d added to it, after all.

“My name is Gordon Walker.  I think you’ve been sending me a message.”

Dean smirked because the Campbell Clan was well guarded.  However high up Walker was, he wasn’t the boss.  He doubted anyone with them knew it though. 

“Your thugs are pathetic.  I thought you might need some new blood,” Dean gave Walker his cockiest smile and was met with the fierce look of a man hunting for something more.

“New blood?  Maybe.  Or maybe I brought you here to get payback for the men you killed.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“You’re chained to a chair and there are a dozen humans and weres surrounding you.  Do you really think you have a chance?”

“It’s why you left my knife, isn’t it?”

Walker grinned again.  “See what he can do.”

Dean watched as the men began to step closer, but he didn’t wait to move.  He dug his heels into the ground and heaved back with all his strength.  The silver chains couldn’t be broken but the goddamned chair was thrashed against the concrete pole that was directly behind him.  When Dean stood the chains fell heavily into a puddle at his feet.  He pulled his shirt over his head as the circle of men hesitated and wrapped his hand before grabbing the silver chain with it.  He smiled as he swung the chain over his head, stepping closer to the men until he had his knife in hand. 

“Who wants to go first?”

**

“So they bought it?”

Dean nodded as he stared around the busy train terminal.  Anyone could see them together, but it was unlikely that Walker was keeping a tail on him.  Dean had killed far too many men for them to think he was undercover.  But then again, Walker didn’t know the things Dean did.

“Walker’s got his fingers into everything underground and a few things that aren’t.  It’ll take me a while to see it all, but I’ll get there.”

The man in front of him, the only human Dean trusted, gave him a half smile.  “I don’t like you getting involved like this but it was the only way.  Whoever the murderer is, we need to find him before the entire city goes into a panic.  The Beast can’t rise again.”

The Beast.  The Beast was an enigmatic killer that had taken hold of the city and held it by the throat, fear making people stay locked in their homes.  He killed indiscriminately and without type or tell to find him.  His trademark was a bloody paw print left at each scene.  He’d gone quiet when the Pestilence hit and most people assumed he’d been killed in the riots that had ensued.  Most people were wrong.

Bobby Singer had been appointed the head of the task force that handled the Were Amnesty.  They forgave past crimes and helped weres find a place in their new society.  They relocated and educated weres.  Singer had come for Dean, knowing he was a hired killer and offered him a place if he would teach his men how to fight like a were, how to defend against them.

It had tickled Dean to be allowed to hunt his own kind again – to train men as his father had once trained him.  It had given him a life outside of the streets and a way to legitimize his search for his little brother.

The Beast went quiet because society was learning how to integrate weres and humans and Dean no longer felt the need to punish society for his father’s hatred of his son’s condition and his inability to help Dean control the beast that should never have been allowed to hurt his Sammy.

“No, the Beast can’t rise, no matter who thinks he should.”

Because the killer wasn’t Dean this time, but someone who had studied the Beast’s methods and was replicating them; a copy-cat who was adding his own style to Dean’s.  Instead of a clear bloody paw print left behind, the print was smeared with three sharp scratch marks, made deep enough to gouge the floors they’d been made on.  Whoever it was knew about Dean and his little brother and might just have a clue where Dean could find him.  It was why Dean had agreed to come out of his criminal retirement and go undercover to find him. 

Singer watched him closely.  He was the only human who knew the whole story and he kept it secret.  He cared for Dean in ways his father never had and through his own research Dean knew Singer had lost someone in the same were-hate that had destroyed Dean’s life.  Singer protected Dean and cared for him, more like a son than a wayward were he worked with, and Dean appreciated it.  In fact, Singer was the only thing Dean cared about, outside his hunt for his brother. 

They both needed this fake Beast out of the picture and Dean wouldn’t let Bobby down.  Not when Bobby’s search for Sammy had led Dean to this Beast in the first place.

**

They all steered clear of Dean when they had to meet up.  It happened from time to time.  Even criminal masterminds had to make sure their underlings knew their place and it was no less in the Campbell Clan.  Dean hung back against the wall watching the others mingle before Walker decided to show himself. 

“They’re terrified of you.”

Dean glanced to his side to the lanky man who stood beside him, whispered like it was a sweet nothing.

“They’re terrified he’s going to send you to kill them.”

Dean smiled because it was actually true.  He had been sent to kill some of Walker’s less than stellar compatriots.  He smiled because no one else dared to talk to him except this too tall bit of scrap who was smart enough to make everyone forget just how big and fucking dangerous he really was. 

Dean liked him because of it and he tried hard to remember that he was one of the bad guys.  It was hard when the guy smiled at him and dimples carved a hole in Dean’s heart. 

“You aren’t?”

The guy smiled full force and Dean couldn’t help but smile back at him.  “Walker would never send you against me.  Too afraid you might actually kill him instead of taking me out.”

“You think I’d make that choice?”  It was incredulous that the guy would think it.  Hell, Dean didn’t know his name but the kid was ballsy and brash when he talked but knew when to keep his mouth shut.  Dean did like him and everyone knew it. 

The guy brandished a silver knife from nowhere and half the room went still at the threat of violence it could be.  The guy smiled at Dean though.  “I think it’d be interesting if you didn’t.”

Dean watched him for a surprised minute then dropped his head back against the wall and laughed harder than he could ever remember.  Fuck, he wanted to rip the blade out of the guys hand and fuck him stupid against the wall, but they were there for business after all. 

The look the kid gave him said later. 

Later.

**

Later, apparently meant something different to the kid than it did to Dean because when he went looking for him after Walker was done spouting his filth to the masses, the kid was nowhere to be seen.  It turned out that no one knew the kid’s name either.  They called him Slice because Walker did, some reference to a scar the kid had from his younger days on the street. 

Dean didn’t go looking for him because that was all sorts of trouble, and he had enough on his plate to deal with.

The Beast had killed three more times since Dean had been undercover with the Campbell Clan and he was still no closer to finding him than he had been before he started.  He knew it was there in the gangs that the Beast was hiding.  He knew Walker was protecting him, every instinct in him was telling him Walker was the key to it all, but he couldn’t make a move until he had something more to go on.

Singer wanted another meeting but Dean put him off, telling him he didn’t have anything yet, no matter how their superiors were barking for them.  Singer hung up with a “damn good thing they need you,” when Dean had reminded him that no one else had any better luck than he had.  And that he was wiping the streets with criminal blood so they could all shut their damn mouths. 

Tonight he was supposed to be watching someone’s back and Dean could care less about the human that was about to rob some store.  It was a rite of passage into the gang and Dean was just there to witness it.

He was standing in the shadows of a rooftop across from the 24-7, when he heard the soft landing and shuffle of feet moving towards him.

“Dean.”  His name was a whisper and he smirked into the darkness.

“What are you doing here tonight, Slice?” he asked.

The man’s foot fall stopped and Dean didn’t need to look back to see the stunned look on Slice’s face.

“Finally decide to see whose better?” Dean asked into the silence.

A few steps forward and Slice stopped just behind Dean, whispering in his ear.  “Oh, I’d love to see how good you are Dean, at a number of things.”

Fuck the human and fuck Campbell and Walker and Singer and everything else.  He moved without hesitation, hands on Slice’s shoulders, pushing him back against the wall where the stairwell was housed.

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll show you what I’m best at.”  As much as Dean would have liked to bite the next smart comment from the kid’s lips, he didn’t say anything.  Slice slid his hand down between them, rubbing the palm of his hand up against Dean’s erection.

“Gonna show me right here on the dirty rooftop?”

Dean pushed him around until Slice’s face was pressed against the brick wall and pushed up against his back, hard cock riding against the line of Slice’s ass.

“Shut the fuck up and I just might.”

Not that he could stop now, not with the way the other were was grinding back against his cock.  Dean reached around to undo the kid’s pants but his hands were pushed away as Slice did it himself.  Dean took the time to undo his own pants, pushing them down his thighs before he let his hand trail down Slice’s lower back.  He slid his fingers down the cleft of his ass and smiled as the other man moaned when Dean pressed against his tight little hole. 

“Want it that bad, huh?” Dean asked as he pressed one dry finger in.

“Not gonna break,” Slice said and Dean bit lightly against his neck and he pressed two more fingers in then.  The kid whined at the force of it but never stopped grinding back into Dean’s hand.  They were both weres and Dean knew he could take it so he fucked in and out of Slice’s body without concern.

He wanted inside that body too much to make Slice beg, even though he’d had some pleasant fantasies about that, and he slid his fingers out.  He pushed his cock right back in and Jesus mother fucking Christ he had heard bullshit stories about alphas and betas and perfectly matched mates but he’d never expected something to feel so fucking right.  He gripped Slice’s hips and pounded into him, thrusting harder with each of Slice’s mewls.  “Fuck, gonna knot you right here on the fucking rooftop,” he was holding back, waiting for Slice to pull away at that but he didn’t and Dean finally let go of his control. 

He pulled Slice back flush against his body, burying his cock as deep as he could before his knot began to fill.  Dean rutted against Slice’s ass, forcing his knot further in as it swelled inside the other were’s body.  Slice was moaning, begging for it as Dean filled him up, and when Dean was fucking full to bursting with need he felt Slice’s body clench around him, felt his lover coming against the hard brick wall as Dean fucking painted his insides.

“Fucking hell,” Slice gasped against the brick and Dean forced his hand up to clench the were’s jaw and pull him back into an awkward kiss.  The position was all wrong but the taste and smell of Slice was all right and Dean just keep rutting as his come gushed into Slice’s body.

His knot was starting to empty when Dean let go of Slice’s jaw and dropped his head to rest between the were’s shoulder blades. 

“You suck at watching the new guys,” Slice finally said, breaking the silence while Dean shivered through the last of his spent seed.

Dean’s laugh was breathless and more content than he could ever remember it.  It was bad.  This thing between them was bad but Dean couldn’t help but want more.  “Not my fault you’re that good of a distraction.”

Dean pulled back then, feeling his knot finally slide free and he tucked himself back in, straightening his clothes while he watched Slice do the same. 

“Think the kid will make it?” Slice asked as they walked back to watch the kid who should have been done already but had apparently just gotten the nerve up to go in.

Dean shook his head.  “No.  Walker will let him into the Campbell Clan though as fodder for the other clans.”

Slice eyed him for a moment.  “You don’t think much of Walker.”

“You have any idea how many of his men I killed before he came for me?”  Slice’s eyes were cold and distant now and Dean had seen it before.  The kid could be as polite and smart as any human could wish, but there was a killer behind those eyes and even people in the clan flinched back when Slice reminded them of it.

Dean didn’t back down though.  “We used to call it Pack, not a Clan, because it was.  We looked out for each other and we took care of one another.  We didn’t let each other be put in cages and we kept the hunters off each other’s backs.  The Campbell Clan is a mockery of the protection the pack used to give weres on the street.”

“You think it was better before?  When weres were hunted and thrown in cages to rot?  When the Pack only protected those strong enough to be of use?”

Dean shook his head.  “No, but what good is the Clan when being a part of it doesn’t mean shit to the people running it?”

Slice nodded then, smirking.  “Exactly.”

Before Dean could say anything else the were was running to the side of the building, jumping an incredible distance to the next one. 

“Well, that went well,” Dean said softly just in time to be called back to the moment when an alarm rang out.

“Son of a bitch!” 

And he was off to collect the fucking kid who couldn’t even handle a simple 24-7 robbery.

**

“I don’t think you like me very much, Dean.”

Dean did his best not to frown.  In all honesty, it didn’t matter if Dean liked Gordon Walker or not.  He had a job to do – both undercover and within the Clan – and neither job required his favorable opinion of Walker.

It stung to watch the way Slice stood against the wall though, smirk in place after he’d betrayed Dean’s words.

“That’s fine with me though, Dean, because I don’t care if you like me.  You’re loyal and you do the job which is why you’re here right now.  I have something I need you to take care of for me.”

Dean turned to look at Walker but the other man’s eyes were on Slice.  “There’s something happening in my territory that I didn’t condone and you need to stop it for me.  Slice has been unable to take care of it and I think it’s time for a new tactic.”

Dean could see the coldness in Slice’s eyes – the sheer force of it should have had Walker stopped in his tracks  but the other man seemed to ignore it – and he wondered if he should finally be worried about the knife in the back he’d been expecting since he decided to court a killer.

“What do you need?”

“There is a killer loose.  Neither the police nor Slice have caught him yet and I want you on it.  You’ve seen it in the news already, I’m sure.  Even the Clan fears this killer.”

“The Beast.”

Walker nodded.  “I want the Beast’s head on a platter, Dean.”

Dean nodded.  “I would like nothing better.”

He didn’t try to hide his smile because he knew it was on the feral side.  He wanted the fucking Beast worse than ever and he was being given the go ahead by all the higher ups now.  Last week the man had killed an entire bus full of people on a side street not two blocks from a police station.   

His smile, he realized, was more than feral when he looked up at Slice and found the other man’s eyes wide in surprise.  Dean didn’t back down from it, let Slice see exactly how much he wanted to catch the Beast.  And if Dean took his time making him talk about the three streaks in his signature before he sliced his head from his body, no one would be the wiser.

**

“Three this week.  Something happened to make him escalate like this, Dean.”

Dean stared at the crime scene before closing his eyes.  He could see the other crime scene photos in his head and they were all the same really.  Vicious attacks on random people in random places.  Close to the heart of it, but where there was no gore, a single print was left with three streaks ripped into the print and on the ground beneath it. 

Dean didn’t normally go to the scenes.  It was risky but this was far out of the normal neighborhood and it was too much of a coincidence for Dean to leave it be.  This murder had taken place two blocks from the home Dean had once known with his father and baby brother.  The victim was a father who had just turned his back on his son – left him with a Shepherd to find a new home for him – because the father was a carrier and his son had turned into a were on his fourth birthday.

Singer knew Dean’s story but not about his little brother.  He knew enough to know why Dean needed to be at this crime scene though.  This was personal in a way nothing else had been and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what else the Beast knew about him if he was drudging these old pains up again.

“How was he found?” Dean asked.

“The victim left his son with a Shepherd.  The Shepherd came to see him, to see if he could change his mind about the boy and found him like that.  He messed up this time, Dean.  He left a witness.”

“Wait.  The Shepherd saw him?”

“He’s with a sketch artist now, but he’s not been much help.  I would say he’s too afraid to give us the details but I don’t think fear is what’s holding his tongue.”

“Want me to?”

“Yeah.  Could ya?”

Dean smirked because Bobby was damn good at his job and he knew how to read people.  Whoever it was just didn’t want to talk to a cop and Bobby was hoping Dean would be able to get something out of the guy.

Dean took his time detailing the rest of the crime scene in his head before he walked over to the house the police had taken over.  The place was empty – hell the entire street was little better than a vacant lot nowadays – and the table the artist was sitting over was so wobbly Dean was surprised it held any weight.

It was the only thing Dean had time to notice before he heard his name called.

“Dean Winchester?”  The voice startled him, calling to him from days long past. 

Dean looked up and the man before him looked no different than he had when Dean last saw him, two weeks after Dean had claimed his little brother.

“Pastor Jim?”

“You have to stop him, Dean.”

The man had hold of Dean’s arms and the artist made a quick getaway when he realized the details were no longer forthcoming.

Dean just started at Pastor Jim for a few minutes before putting together the pieces.  He’d known Pastor Jim his whole life but Dean had never know he was one of the Shepherds; men and women who took in the weres that no one wanted but who feared tossing them into the were-orphanages.  Pastor Jim had just stopped coming after Sam had been turned.  Dean always thought it was because he’d been as disgusted by Dean as his father had been, but he understood now.

He didn’t think before he had the pastor pinned to the wall, silver blade at his throat.  “Where is Sammy?”

The Shepherd swallowed hard with the knife against his skin but his eyes were pleading with Dean.  “I found him a good home, Dean, just like I promised your father I would.  He never forgot though, he never forgave.”

Dean closed his eyes, renewing the pain he was so good at shutting down.  “How could he forgive me?”

“Dean, no.”  Dean looked up at Pastor Jim and the man looked haunted.  “He never forgave John for sending him away because he’d been turned and he never forgave him for turning his back on you.  He … he went looking for you as soon as he turned sixteen but he doesn’t remember who you are.  He knows he had a brother and a father and he was too young to remember your names.  His name is Sam Campbell, but no one has seen or heard from him since he left to find you.  Dean … he’s the Beast.”

Dean took a step back because while he’d admitted the possibility in his head, he’d always believed it was someone who knew about Sam.  He couldn’t hope that his brother was there, baiting him with kills so like his own.  It was true though.  Sam was in the city.  Sam was looking for him.

“How do you know?” he whispered.

“He was here, Dean.  I saw him.  He said … he said that if I knew where you were I should find you and give this to you.”

Pastor Jim held out his hand and Dean took the small transmitter from him.  The police used them sometimes when they needed to keep an eye on someone but this was a modified version.  He knew it would give Sam his location and Dean wanted nothing more than to push the damn button and let Sam come.  But not with the police here.  Not where the world could see them.  And not before Dean got a chance to say his good-byes because he’d be damned if he was staying in a city hell bent on killing his little brother.

**

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”  Slice asked as Dean slid out of his body and fell onto his back. 

Slice was smiling at him like a loon and Dean decided it was a good look for him. 

“Just won’t be around much for a while.  Figure I better get my fill while I can.”

Something cold passed behind Slice’s eyes but it was quickly hidden beneath the carefully placed look of concern.  “Where you going?”

“The Beast,” Dean said quietly.  He closed his eyes and found his hand flung over the side of the bed, absently finding the small transmitter in his jeans pocket just to be sure it was there.  “I think I need to go deep with this and I might not be able to come up for breath for a while.”

“Is it worth it?  To catch this were?”

Dean nodded.  “Feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

“Why?  To become Walker’s lackey?  You hate him.  You don’t like what the Campbell Clan stands for.  Why is this so important to you?”

Dean pulled the transmitter out and held its comforting weight in his hand.  “Because the Beast knows how to find something that belongs to me.”

“What?”

“My little brother.”

Slice sat up in bed and his hand caught Dean’s, opening it to see what was inside it.  “Dean, where did you get that?”

“An old friend.”

“Fuck,” Slice slid out of bed before it hit Dean that the note in his voice was distress.  Dean sat up then and looked over at Slice. 

“What the hell?” he asked as he found Slice staring at him down the sights of a tranq gun.

“Did you have a little brother named Sam?” 

Dean didn’t answer because then Slice was lifting his shirt up.  Dean had never seen those abs – Slice liked it fast and dirty and on his knees while Dean fucked him with their pants pushed down just enough to do the job – and he blanched when he saw the three white scars that decorated the pale skin.

The breath was punched out of him and it took a second to realize it wasn’t the only thing hitting him.  He pulled the dart out of his chest and realized he’d just been fucking tranqed by Sammy.

**

This wasn’t the way he thought it would happen.  In all the fantasies he had in his head, Dean had never once thought he’d find his brother like this.  Who would?  People didn’t typically have sex with their brothers, let alone fucking knot them on a regular basis because they were in a mixed gang of humans and weres where no one trusted them but each other.  He never expected to find his brother because he was killing with Dean’s previous MO.  And he never thought he’d wake up from the revelation that his brother was in front of him, tied to a fucking bed – the one they’d just been fucking in before Sam had tranqed him – with his brother staring down at him from on top of his chest.

“You’re Dean Winchester,” Sam stated when he realized Dean was awake.

“Yeah, you know that.”

“Who was your father?”

Dean sighed.  “John Winchester.  He was a marine but after I turned my, you, he became a were hunter.  He trained me into it too.  He died before the Pestilence.”

“He trained a were to kill weres?”

Dean nodded.  “I had a little brother.  Human.  His name was Sammy and when I was six I turned him.  I wanted him to be like me so we could always be together.  That’s when my father started hating weres.”

Sam shifted on his knees and settled back into the cradle of Dean’s hips.  “My name is Sam Campbell.  I was raised by Samuel Campbell when my father turned me away because I was a were.  Campbell wanted an heir for his kingdom and he took me in.  Guess The Shepherds aren’t so great at screening families because the guy ran the Campbell Clan in the East after the Pestilence ran its course and he realized things were going to change.  I learned what I could from him, but left when I was sixteen to come back here.  I couldn’t remember my own name, but I knew where I’d come from.  I found Walker and trained him to be my face so that I would have a safety net here but he never cared about his people and I didn’t care about anything but finding my big brother.”

Dean tried to lean up but Sam had a silver knife at his throat before Dean could even speak.  “So, I researched and I became fascinated by the Beast.  I knew – I fucking knew – it had to be my brother.  Who else could hate humans and weres so much?  I didn’t have any proof but the timelines made sense with what I was able to find out about him and the underworld had far more leads and hints about who it was than the police ever did.  I knew that I could draw him out with his MO.  And then you showed up and Walker wanted to kill you because you were a threat to him.  Even before I slipped into your bed he knew you’d replace him as my right hand.”

Sam snorted.  “Ironic that I was so wrong about it all.  You’re a cop and not the Beast at all, but I found you anyway.  Found you trying to kill the man who was reviving the old fears of your community.”

Sam’s voice sounded like despair and Dean wanted to move, to fucking grab Sam and let him know he wasn’t alone anymore but Sam’s knife held him there as surely as the silver chains did.

“I was the Beast,” Dean managed to whisper against the silver at his throat.

“What?”

Sam pulled the knife back and Dean licked his lips.  “I was the Beast,” he admitted aloud for the second time in his life.  Only Singer knew that truth.  “I went clean with the amnesty.  Trained cops to fight against weres.  They brought me in to find the copy-cat Beast because the case lead knew about me.  I thought whoever the new Beast was that he had to know about you, about what I did to you.  If he knew that he had to know where you were.  I was trying to catch him to find you.”

“You were looking for me?”

“My whole fucking life, Sam.  It’s why I went clean.  Singer offered me resources to find you that I’d never have on my own.  Only John didn’t do any of it fucking legally and I could only trace you so far before I lost everything.”

“And now that you found me Dean? Now that you found out you were fucking me?”

Sam didn’t flinch away from what had happened between them and with Sam cushioned as he was, Dean’s dick perked up at the thought of having Sam under him again.  As fucked up as it all was, Dean didn’t really care that it was his little brother he’d been knotting.  Hell, if Sam let him up he’d go right back to it, so long as Sam wanted it.

“I’d do anything for you Sammy,” Dean answered honestly.

“Would you fuck me, Dean?”

Dean nodded and Sam smiled.  “Would you kill for me?”

Dean nodded again.  This time Sam stood up and Dean couldn’t help but admire his little brother’s body as he looked down at Dean.  The next words Sam spoke were a whisper and Dean had to strain to hear it.  “Would you let me mark you, Dean?  Let me claim you like you claimed me?”

Dean’s eyes went straight to the three white lines that marred his brother’s perfect skin.  Three lines that had changed both their lives forever because Dean hadn’t been able to contain his urge to mark what was his and his father had been too afraid of his son’s were side to train him properly. 

Three lines that marked Sam his, forever.

“Yes.”

Sam’s eyes widened at the same time as he licked his lips.  Sam took a few deep breaths and then a few steps towards the bedside table.  Dean watched as Sam grabbed one of the two bowls sitting there.  He took up his position sitting across Dean’s lap.  He reached over and pulled a blue medical glove off the table and slipped it over his fingers.  He dipped his hand into the bowl then and held it up for Dean to see.  “You know what this is?”

Dean did and he knew exactly what Sam had planned for him.  “Silver.  Shaved silver.”

“You know what’s in the other bowl?”    

“Acid,” Dean’s answer was breathless at the idea of Sam marking him like that but Jesus he’d said he’d do anything and he meant it.  “Prisoners use it to make tattoos.  Mark the skin with silver first, then use the acid to sear it in.  It leaves dark black scars instead of the white scars humans have.  It’s the only way to tattoo a were.”

Sam smiled as he leaned forward.  “Close your eyes, Dean.”

Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest but he did as Sam asked.  He didn’t know what Sam was going to mark him with but he deserved whatever Sam did to him.  He felt his brother’s breath against his mouth, then the soft press of his lips before he withdrew again.  When Sam’s fingers pressed against his face, he drew them down from just above his eyebrow, over his eyelids and down his cheek.   

He felt Sam shift and the soft clink of the bowl on the table as Sam grabbed the other one. 

“Sam, unchain me.”

Dean opened his eyes; the silver hurt like a bitch but he didn’t look away from his brother even as his eye teared up.  Sam looked like Dean had kicked him and Dean knew he misunderstood but he needed to show Sam what he was made of, what he was willing to do for him.  He didn’t move when Sam unlocked the chains and let them fall to the ground.  Sam didn’t move either as he settled on the bed beside Dean.

“You can get up now.”

Dean closed his eyes then, reaching one hand out to grip Sam’s thigh.  “You can do it now.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to chain me down for this, Sam.  I want you to do it.  Mark me just like I marked you.”

He let his fingers brush over Sam’s scars then and Sam shuddered under his touch.  In a heartbeat Sam was straddling Dean’s hips and had the bowl again.  Dean grit his teeth to prepare for the pain Sam was about to inflict on him.  “Sammy!” he screamed as the acid hit his skin, merging with the sting of silver in his flesh.  He held on to the pain, held on to the feel of his brother in his hands and the weight of him holding Dean down.  He held on until Sam put the bowl down and shushed him with scattered kisses.  When Sam settled into his side, whispered words of love and a future, Dean let the pain and contentment take him under.

**

“Walker?  I didn’t think he had it in him.”

Dean nodded as he gave Bobby a half smirk.  “I know.  He had everyone convinced there was another mastermind to the whole Clan and then went and took it even further.  I don’t know how he managed to keep it together as long as he did, not as crazy as he was.  I’d love to know how he knew all those things about the Beast though.”

Bobby wasn’t entirely fooled and Dean knew it.  Sam was a stone’s throw away from them, watching from the crowded bus platform.  Dean told Bobby they were headed out for a little R&R but he figured Bobby knew that everything Dean owned was packed into the back of the Impala waiting outside in the parking lot. 

“Guess John must have told a tale or two in his day,” Bobby said with a shake of his head.

“Dean, you ready?”  Sam asked as he came up beside him.  Bobby and Sam had met once before and Dean didn’t like the idea of them getting too close.  Not with everything Bobby knew about him but Sam seemed to think of Bobby like Pack since he found out how he’d taken care of Dean since the Pestilence. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think we’re good.”  He looked at Sam and then back to Bobby one more time.  “Singer, for the record, I’m taking a few weeks off and don’t call me.  Off the record, Bobby, thanks for everything.  Call when it’s safe.”

Bobby smiled at him and took his hand, shaking it before pulling him into a gruff hug.  Dean held him close for a moment then started to walk away.

“Hey, Sam,”  Sam got the same gruff hug but Dean didn’t have time to warn Sam before he was pressed up against the barrier with his shirt pulled halfway up. 

Sam stared at Bobby like he’d grown another head and Bobby just smirked like every confirmation he’d needed had just been handed to him.  Bobby looked Sam in the eye then.  “Hurt him again and I’ll use every trick he ever taught us, and then a few.”

Sam took the warning with a nod and then a tiny smile.  “Come looking for us before then and it’ll be your head on a pike.”

Bobby stepped back, not because of the threat but because it was time for them to go and Dean eyed the two of them before shaking his head and starting to walk away. 

“You think he’ll really come looking for us Dean?” Sam asked as he caught up.

“No.  He knows better.  Besides he doesn’t have anyone to catch us anyway.”

“Really?”

“I trained his best Sammy.  Besides you should know this already.  The only way to catch a were is to send a were.”

Sam smiled.  “And the only way to catch a Winchester is to send a Winchester.”

Dean stopped right there in the middle of the platform and crushed his lips to his brothers.  He didn’t care who saw them and he smiled as he stepped back, Sam’s eyes wide in surprise. 

“Look who’s finally catching on now?”

Sam pushed his shoulder and Dean laughed as Sam reached for him, wrapping his arm over his shoulders to keep him close again.  Dean’s hand slid across Sam’s back and they walked out of the terminal together. 

The Beast was put to rest, the Winchester brothers were back together, and there was a whole new fucking world for them to see. 

Sam smiled at Dean, something warm and mischievous and pushed Dean behind him before running off.  “Last one to the car loses.”

Dean didn’t know what the stakes were but he ran after his brother, his lover, his mate, with a smile on his face.

Set a were to catch a were, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: written for the spn_illuminated challenge on live journal to the amazing art by ladytiferet. And a shout out to novakev for a fast and awesome beta job! Enjoy!


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